In the Graveyard of the Undead
by ElizabethAnnFanfic
Summary: Missing scenes/post ep for 7x18 Hollywood AD. MSR, Humor, Angst. Takes place in "Cursing Miracles" after Ch 2, but it isn't necessary to read "CM" to understand this and vice versa. Scully and Mulder go to CA and Mulder is surprised by Scully.


Timeline: 7x18 Hollywood AD

Category: Missing Scenes/Post-episode

She remembered the moment when she had realized that their relationship had irreparably changed. Somehow, while conscious of spending more time with Mulder—time that was always verging on altering their relationship—she had blinded herself to the possibility that Mulder was conducting a campaign to work himself into the last area of her life that was closed to him. She had spent the night with him before. They'd shared dinners and evenings together when it wasn't necessary. He'd kissed her before. But the tenor of these events and the frequency of them were elevated to a new level. She'd stayed with him when he needed her. They'd eaten pizzas and ribs together on assignment. He'd kissed her on her forehead and cheek. Countless times.

But now, every time she turned around Mulder was knocking at her door or she was pulling into his parking lot. They had watched movie after movie together. Shared dozens of pizzas both on assignment and off. And if Scully paused to think too long about it, there were other dizzying factors. He no longer kissed her on her forehead in moments of sadness, moments of relief. He kissed her just because he felt like it. And she made no forceful attempts to stop him. There had been several nights when they had fallen asleep at the other's apartment. She'd even slept in his hotel room while on the Amber Lynn assignment. 'I must remind you that this goes against the Bureau's policy on male and female agents consorting in the same hotel room while on assignment,' she inwardly sing-songed to herself as they'd boarded the plane back to D.C. with Skinner in tow. What kind of look might he have given her if he'd found her with Mulder _that _morning?

Her walls were collapsing like a house of cards and before she knew it they were gone. Blown away by some imaginary big bad wolf. And they were left—just the two of them. Mulder had somehow maneuvered into her life and she sat back, letting it happen with some bemusement. There was nothing left to disclose, and instead of feeling as if she had lost her last shred of independence, Scully was surprised to find that she felt completely at ease. Her partner, who had treated her to countless nights of worry and frustration, also brought her peace and happiness. What she had so carefully avoided actually made everything else bearable. She suddenly felt…normal.

But the moment it had first dawned on her that it had all changed was when Mulder had brought her breakfast in bed. The moment had the potential for romance—Scully had been brought breakfast in bed by Jack once while they were spending a weekend together. That had been romantic. But this was at five in the morning and she had been on a stakeout for several days in the cold. There was nothing romantic about that kind of inopportune wake up. But it had been a moment, when she recognized the shift for what it was. If she had wanted to stop the train, something would be sacrificed on the tracks. And for the moment she hadn't wanted to stop the train.

Sitting alongside him while he mouthed the lines to "Plan Nine from Outer Space," she was also acutely aware that she still had no desire to apply the brakes. She had fully committed—given herself over not only mind and body, but also soul—several weeks ago after a brief period of self-doubt and intense personal reflection.

"Mulder…"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think it's at all possible that Hoffman really is Jesus Christ?"

"Are you making fun of me?"

"No."

"Well, no, I don't. But crazy people can be very persuasive."

Scully smiled playfully: "Well, yes, I know that."

He grinned back at her, accepting her teasing.

She watched the zombie on the small screen rise from the grave. How many times had Mulder watched this nonsense?

"How…"

"Forty-two," he responded, interrupting her before she completed her question.

"You've seen this movie forty-two times?"

"Yes."

"Doesn't that make you sad? It makes me sad."

It made her sad that someone as complex, intelligent, and handsome as Mulder had spent so much time alone brooding over bad movies, instead of being with someone…anyone that could love him.

"You know, Scully, we've got four weeks probation vacation and nothing to do and Wayne Federman's invited us to watch his movie being filmed and God knows I could use a little sunshine."

She looked up at him and he smiled broadly. She had recently seen firsthand that Mulder could get caught up in the attention of cameras. She wondered if he hadn't also gotten a little caught up in the idea that their lives were going to be reenacted on the big screen. How else could you explain his desire to go on…a vacation? Mulder was _forced _to take vacations—he didn't initiate them. And he went to Graceland, not Hollywood.

"Scully…" he pleaded.

Well, if she was going to be that someone, she might as well pack her bags: "California, here we come."

* * *

Mulder wasn't ready to take his relationship with Scully primetime. He didn't think he would ever be ready. Scully probably didn't want it known anyway. Well. Hell, he didn't know what she thought. It was enough for him that she was there sometimes in the morning next to him. If he broadcast what he felt for her, whatever it was that they had might disappear like a mirage. This wasn't some headboard slamming relationship—this was his partner with whom he'd developed over several years the healthiest relationship of his adult life. He'd wanted to pin her to a bed for some time, but she was his equal, whom he respected too much to devour like an eighteen year old unleashed on a college campus. For once in his life, it seemed as if patience was paying off, and he wasn't willing to risk the payoff with any public display of agent on agent affection.

It would be easier if everyone around them would stop _assuming_. It had been frustrating to fight off the assumptions when they had been wrong—well, half wrong. If they could have read his mind, as Gibson Praise had done, or slipped into his dreams at night, then yes, he had felt for some time something more for Agent Scully than he was willing to say. Occasionally an unprofessional thought flitted through his alien addled brain. But, otherwise they had been completely off the mark. No untoward activity here. Agent Scully would have never permitted it. Well, until recently. He chuckled to himself.

Scully's eyes popped open and she looked over at him.

"Did you say something?" she asked, stretching awkwardly in the airplane seat.

"No," he said flipping through the in-flight magazine.

"Mulder, couldn't you move your legs a little?" she asked, looking down at his long legs spreading into her personal space.

"Scully, when you grow ten inches, I'll share some of the leg room with you."

"Why should I have to suffer, just because you're abnormally tall?"

"Now, it can't be that bad. You don't need that much room, being _abnormally_ small."

"The next time we fly across the country, I say we pop for first class," she said, worming in the tight confines and tucking the white airline pillow under her cheek.

"I couldn't afford these dashing suits, if we did that. I know how that would break your girlish heart."

"You're right, I'm all a tremble just thinking about it," she replied sarcastically before closing her eyes.

But now that _something _was going on…he had to watch his tone when people voiced their assumptions. People like Wayne Federman. Having to protect her from the unseemly insinuations of strangers, well that brought out a bit of the alpha male in him. Except reacting like that was just the sort of thing that got people talking. It was the sort of thing that could get you…and your lovely partner…in trouble. Even more discomfiting when Federman insinuated that it was Skinner, not you, that Scully was engaging in untoward relations with.

...

No, definitely not ready for primetime. Or the big screen. Mulder felt as if his life's work and love were being piteously mocked and displayed for mass consumption, as he watched Gary Shandling kiss Tea Leoni inside a coffin. He stared at the screen, completely mortified, as Shandling locked lips with Leoni, telling her: "I love you, Scully." He glanced down at Scully, fearing that what was making him uncomfortable would wreck havoc on their fragile peace. His breathing was heavy and he turned to say something to Scully, as these characters played out their years of unresolved sexual tension for laughs. He didn't know what to say though…how to fix the monstrosity that was happening before their eyes. He dropped his head. Yes, people's assumptions could most certainly get you in trouble.

And he could see it coming; Tea Leoni was about to deliver to big screen Mulder the kiss off that real life Mulder had so feared.

"I'm in love with Assistant Director Walter Skinner."

Well, not quite: he had never imagined his Scully would be choosing Walter Skinner. Apparently Assistant Director Skinner with his Assistant Producer credits had different ideas. Mulder grabbed his knees with his hands before standing up.

His voice was louder than he intended: "That's it, Scully, I can't take it anymore."

"Shh, Mulder, sit down."

Mulder stalked up the aisle, leaving Scully behind. He couldn't watch this. He couldn't witness the ridiculing of the only decent thing in his life. He couldn't sit by while his partner silently vowed to put an end to things between them to avoid just this kind of speculative tripe.

Except…apparently Scully wasn't that easy to spook anymore. Apparently she could laugh it off. She wasn't going to begin the early stages of a new brick wall to mark off the areas of her life he wasn't allowed to enter. Her trowel might have been put away for good. Scully could giggle, could tug at him with a smile, promising dinners in Hollywood on the Bureau credit card, could hold his hand through the graveyard of the undead, could tease him that she was in love with Skinner—just to show him that she was okay and convince him that he would be too. He wasn't going to be returned to his unlovable spooky man status. Not tonight, maybe not ever, if he played his cards right. Wonders never ceased.

* * *

"Scully?"

"Yes, Mulder?"

"Do you think there's a chance I might get lucky tonight?"

Scully laughed. "I don't think the Bureau card can be used for that sort of thing," she teased.

"Does that mean you're charging?"

"You're rather forward tonight, aren't you?"

She glanced around the parking lot to make sure that no one was nearby.

"It's Hollywood, baby," he said in his best sleazy tone by way of explanation.

"Well, I tell you what, if…"

"Scully," he interrupted, slipping his arm around her diminutive shoulders, "if I have to wait for it to start rain sleeping bags…"

Scully shook her head. They _were_ in Hollywood. They were staying in a deluxe hotel one floor away from each other. They were a million miles away it seemed from responsibilities and their usual set of concerns and…surveillance devices.

"If we drink enough wine, Mulder, I might be willing to forget that Assistant Producer Skinner is lurking somewhere in our hotel."

"And you're worried, because he's got the hots for you?"

"Because he's also Assistant Director Skinner," she corrected.

"You're full of surprises tonight, Scully."

"Am I?"

"Yeah. I just figured you'd punch me in my arm a minute ago and instead, I coaxed a promise of an illicit rendezvous out of you," he said as they approached their rental car.

"I didn't promise."

"Okay, but you have made it a possibility. Shocking enough in and of itself, considering your rather strict rules about…_us_."

'What rules was he referring to?' Scully wondered. They'd never actually sat down and discussed what was going on between them or how to handle it. Seemingly, Mulder thought that she had established rules for them nonetheless. Maybe she had. Maybe he was really that good at sensing what her comfort level was. She wasn't comfortable mixing field work and pleasure; she had no intention of ever confusing the two by acting unprofessionally. Apparently he knew that. But they weren't really on assignment. It was supposed to be a vacation.

Mulder opened the passenger door for her, but she didn't get in immediately, pausing to turn to him.

"You know, I'm not rigid. I _am_ open to spontaneity and having a good time," she insisted.

"I'll make sure to remember that when we're back in my room," he said with a waggle of the eyebrows.

"Is it possible for you to behave like an adult?"

He bent down to kiss the tip of her ear and whispered, "No. Not a chance."


End file.
